Abysmo

Men with both roots and wings
 They tie us down and ask us to leave
 They are teachings unheard, they are bodies on smoke
 Men with both roots and wings
 At a singular voice we moan
 Our teachings mislead, our teachings like smoke
 We sleep between the storm that was
 And the storm which has to come
 We've learnt to learn everywhere
 And the very own nature has taught us to wait
 Difference does sound like sin, equality reliefs
 And that fame rhymes with hate yet everything is fair
 On the intervals of your death
 Misguided demons or forthcoming heroes
 Each one with an important name
 Nothing else than an important name
 Men with both roots and wings
 At a certain time we are one
 Our litlle tricks, our innocence stubborn
 Men with just little wings, men with just little minds
 Men with just little eyes, men with just little deeds
 Sleeping between the storm that was
 And the wind which fails to come (and finally)
 Blow us away